


Wake-up Call

by red_crate



Series: 2017 Kinktober Collection [1]
Category: American Assassin (2017), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Pining, Scent Marking, Sleepy Sex, Werewolf Peter Hale, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 11:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12232002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate
Summary: He likes sex of any kind, but taking Mitch by surprise like this kicks up something predatory inside Peter.





	Wake-up Call

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be something else, but ended up what it is because Twisted_Mind didn't laugh her ass off when I asked "Mitch Rapp/Peter Hale?" Thanks for that, hon. <3
> 
> Kinktober Day One: Sleepy Sex

 

Mitch sleeps on his back, arms crossed and taking only as much room as he needs. So still, so lethal. Though the rest of his body doesn't move in his sleep, his expression fluctuates between placid and tense as if his nightmares won’t leave him for a single night. Peter props his head up on his fist, lying on his side, so he can look at the man in his bed. Every time they come together, he wants to rile Mitch up and get under his skin.

Idea set in his mind, Peter moves as quietly as he can. He drapes the sheet over his shoulders and pushes Mitch’s legs apart to make room for himself. He’s met without resistance which is a testament to the comfort level Mitch has developed around Peter after the handful of times they’ve come together like this. Peter kisses those well-developed thighs, hair rasping against Peter’s stubbled chin. There are no shorts, pants, or underwear blocking his way as Peter leaves a trail of kisses up one leg towards Mitch’s groin.

He’s half hard already—morning wood—and Peter takes a minute to nuzzle the base of it, inhaling deeply of the clean sweat and thick musk of Mitch. They only had two days together this time, and Peter went to bed alone last night while Mitch went out and put down his target. Despite the shower, Peter can smell the adrenaline lingering in Mitch’s system. He darts up, skipping Mitch’s cock for the moment, and runs his open mouth along the bone of Mitch's forearm until he reaches Mitch's left hand. The scent of gunshot residue is strongest there though it is barely a whisper of what it must have been last night.

Peter closes his eyes and imagines blood splatter on Mitch's skin, wishes he could be the one to wash him clean, lick it all up.  

He satisfies himself by dragging his tongue down from the head of Mitch's cock to the root. It firms up under the attention, twitching as Peter curls his tongue around the shaft. That's as far as he gets before Mitch is awake. Pulse quickening and fingers landing tight in Peter's hair, Mitch flinches as he quickly assesses what's happening.

“Hey,” the voice above Peter is gravely. Mitch loosens his grip when Peter sucks his cock head into his mouth and gets it good and wet. He lets out an appreciative sigh.

Peter smiles around the cock stretching his lips. The warm scent of sleep clings to the edges of Mitch's smell, sharp with the always present scent of rage and calculated death. Peter can't ever get enough of it. Each time he gets a chance to have Mitch like this, willing and responsive, Peter wants to keep him. He knows he can't though.

Mitch has other plans, plans that don't include being tied down right now.

Instead of dwelling on the fact that they’ll be parting ways again soon, or the fact that there is no guarantee they'll find one another again, Peter closes his eyes and sucks Mitch down. The head nudges at the back of his throat on that first stroke, teasing the both of them.

He likes sex of any kind, but taking Mitch by surprise like this kicks up something predatory inside Peter. For all that he's completely human, Mitch is deadly and conniving. Peter has seen him grapple and fight with someone twice his size, hand-to-hand, and take them out in a brutal, primal way. It's not just weaponry that Mitch is adept at using. To know that he can reduce Mitch to an almost desperate mess causes Peter to preen.

He opens his throat on the third stroke, working his tongue on the shaft along the way, and hollows his cheeks. Mitch's thighs are shaking already, and he's clenching his stomach with the force of holding off his reflexive thrusts. The hand in Peter's hair tightens and releases completely before Mitch reaches down to twist both hands in the bedding. Peter keeps up a fast, steady pace meant to wreck Mitch in no time.

It works. Hot ropes of come spurt down Peter's throat suddenly, and he only gets to taste it once he pulls back enough for the head to land on his tongue. Bitter, salty. Peter swallows it all down, greedy for every bit he can get. His stomach feels warm at the thought. His own cock hangs heavy between his thighs. But, for once—and only when it comes to Mitch, it seems—Peter doesn't care.

He looks up in time to catch a soft, awed expression cross Mitch's face just before he shutters it closed. Mitch rolls to a sitting position and scrubs a hand over his face with a chuckle.

“You're a sneaky fuck.” He lightly accuses as he stands and grabs his jeans from the chair by the bed. Mitch didn't come with any luggage, not even an overnight bag.

Peter watches as Mitch gets dressed, arms crossed behind his head and legs akimbo in leisure. “You like it, or you wouldn't keep coming back for more.”

Mitch gives a small smile to the ground as he slips his gun into the waist of his jeans. Peter doesn't think that's the safest way to carry his firepower, but Mitch isn't a novice by any means. Sometimes, Peter wants to tell Chris about Mitch and all the terrible, dangerous things he gets up to. He wonders if they'd get along, or if they'd be like oil and water.

“I suppose there's some truth in that,” Mitch admits, giving Peter a look that has a little more longing than usual. “I don't know when—”

Peter waves a hand in the air, rolling his eyes. “...when you'll be around again. I know the deal, Rapp.” He cards his fingers through his own hair in a show of disinterest. His cock is still half hard though, and clearly giving him away. Peter persists though. “If it's meant to happen, you'll find me. Or I'll find you. Again.” He smirks.

Mitch huffs, not quite an agreement, but he does lean in for a lingering kiss. “Something like that.”

And then, just like that, Mitch Rapp walks back out of Peter's life.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on [tumblr](http://the-redcrate.tumblr.com).


End file.
